It is only a few paces from the edge of the wilderness to the lake; trees crowd close to the water in every direction. The water at your feet is pristine, shining blue. Gentle ripples ruffle the glossy surface of the water and whisper at the shore. The hump of Katahdin Peak, blue-grey with distance, looms over the trees as they ring the lake. The air smells clean, rich with pine and fish. In the distance you can make out a dock, and other signs of human habitation; but here, only the calls of birds, frogs, and insects disturb the peaceful quiet.
An airship bobs over the lake at the end of long, fine tethers that are fastened here and there around the eastern portion of the lakeshore. An array of ropes and winches dangles from amidships, ending at a small, floating platform with couple of small, neat dinghies moored to it. Occasional sounds emit from the airship: spinning propellers, jets of steam, and voices.
Did someone call for 'tall, dark, and handsome'? Well, dark's fairly well covered, at least. Jet-black hair's pulled into a long, loose tail at the nape of his neck, a few stray strands about the face occasionally drifting into his almost equally dark eyes, the irises of which are a brown deep enough that one needs to look closely to find the pupil. Nut-brown skin that sets off the white of his teeth and eyes -- it could just barely be mistaken for a very deep tan, if one really tried. Tall is a miss; he's still several inches off six feet, and he probably won't ever get there. Handsome... well, not a classic beauty, to be sure, but well-proportioned, with a stunning, frequent grin and deeply expressive features. Slim, but in perfectly good shape.
He's clad in... well, black leather pants. Somewhat faded, well broken in, but nicely cut and really =quite= nicely fitted. A simple cream shirt is tucked into them at the waist; the collar of it's left mostly unlaced, the ends of the cord hanging down. Over that, he wears a decidedly well-worn old black trenchcoat, almost too big for him -- the cuffs hang down half-over his hands, when he lets them, and the hem hangs perilously close to his heels. Scuffed black leather boots with worn soles adorn his feet; there's a seemingly random collection of bracelets, all on one wrist, and several piercings along the upper section of each ear -- little silver hoops.
Thundersnow is an elegant and sturdy horse with a mix of traits that could be attributed to various breeds, yet which all integrate seamlessly in his compact form. The slight arch to his neck and his clean lines are reminiscent of an Arab, but his chest and forehead are a bit too wide for a pureblood, and he's also larger, with a broad body and less curviture to his back. His markings are just this side of dark for a classic bay: his winter-heavy coat is dark black-brown, with lighter regions of true brown on his fetlocks and face, and his hair is pure black. A cleanly parted forelock offsets his large, expressive eyes and trim ears, and his mane hangs past his neck in lazy, full waves. His tail is similarly full and silky, and just brushes the ground. His unshod, trimmed hooves are a contradiction to his well-groomed form, and he bears no brand of claiming nor the marks typical of a horse broken to the saddle.
Well, look at this city boy. He's middling-tall, with the sort of skinny-yet-flabby physique that comes of never exercising or eating right; although his limbs are lanky, he's got a bit of an overhang in the belly region. His looks are plain, nothing special to them at all except an interestingly aristocratic nose, long and thin. His complexion is fair--no, it's pale, desperately pale, almost albino, although there is some natural color. Apparently he doesn't get a lot of sun. His eyes are a confused dark gray-blue-hazel, and intently wary, often flicking to the source of a sudden sound or movement. They're often veiled by his hair, which is a mop of Beatles-esque proportions, ugly in a way that went out of style during the Long Night. Also in the way of bad fashion statements, he has jaw-length sideburns which widen at their ends, although he's otherwise clean-shaven. It's a look that hasn't been in vogue for a century or so. His hair, eyebrows, and sideburns are all a uniform shade of absolute black; it does not flatter him.
If it wasn't already painfully obvious that he's fresh from a big city, his clothes cinch the deal. Loose gray corduroy pants, long enough to bunch over the tops of sneakers, a long-sleeved thin blue cotton shirt of the pullover variety, and over that, a battered red-and-black flannel shirt, unbuttoned. Despite the light clothing, the chill of the season doesn't seem to bother him.
On the lakeshore, there's a felled tree, the trunk half-rotted but not destroyed. On the least rotted part of it, there's Serendipity, seated lotus position beneath a particularly large umbrella, keeping the falling snow out of a circle that just surrounds him. He's gazing off across the water, quiet and still.
The sound of the snow falling gives way to something large moving between the trees, drawing near the lake. It's repetitive and evenly paced, and as the source grows closer and the sound louder, snorting can also be heard. Snow and ice crunch beneath the weight of the approaching thing, but in the dimmer light of Lilith it's difficult to make out much more than a vaguely mobile dark splotch.
A rabbit shoots out from the treeline, running flat-out across the shore and plunging back into the trees several yards down. Tristan skitters out after it, halting in a spray of frost and pebbles and looking supremely annoyed. "Fuck."
The horsey sounds only get a faint perk of Ren's attention, but the closer, louder pursuit gains the rest of it, and he twists quickly to look at the source, breaking into a wide grin as recognition sets in. "Heyyy. Tristan. Goin' out for fast food t'night, huh?"
The horse stops as soon as Tristan emerges along the shore, close enough now to see that his coloring is dark against the white snow he's walking in. His ears cant forward and his body tenses, but his tail swishes with curiosity as he sniffs at the two men.
"Skinny little fuckers ain't worth the catching, anyway," Tristan grumbles in a fine display of sour grapes. He gives a vague sort of wave in Ren's direction, then eyes Thundersnow. Horses are not supposed to be out at night. Bay stallion is here only to annoy him.
Serendipity inclines a nod in the direction of the horse, something of a greeting, but the grin's still for Tristan, considering. "Man, y'don't call, y'don't write," he laments melodramatically. "Guy could feel unloved. So how's it goin'?"
Thundersnow's ears flatten along his head and he neighs at Tristan, a low sound that's at best a warning. I go out where I *please*, night or noon. Epona's Get do not fear the darkness. He stomps for emphasis and tosses his head in a show of defiance.
Tristan dances a few steps away from Thundersnow, snickering. He smirks at Ren. "Like you're one to talk. I couldn't even find you. Where -you- been?"
Serendipity smirks back. "Here 'n' there. ...crash at the farm, most nights," he adds, uber-casually. One could almost interpret it as an invitation, if one were so inclined. He twists his position on the log, to face the vampire. And the horse. "You annoying the horse?"
Thundersnow trots a few steps forward out of the trees, drawing closer to Ren and Tristan. He pins his ears again at the vampire, but they pop back up quickly, and when he stops, his body language is a geat deal more relaxed. I think he annoys everyone because he thinks it is funny.
"Me? Annoying?" Tristan asks with dewy-eyed look. He meanders over to Ren's log and poings atop it in a quick spring. "What farm? Man, I've been all over the damn mountain, ain't found no farm, just some a those real small mom'n'pop homesteads."
Serendipity grins again, and shifts the umbrella just enough that it keeps some of the snow off Tristan as well. "Well, I dunno, man, but last time I was up close to a horse acting like that, I was limping for a week. And not in the good way, either." He studies the horse a few moments as he speaks. "The place they all call '=The= Farm'. 's got guest houses and shit, Sean stays there?" He pauses a second, and the grin goes wicked as he adds, "...nice barn?" He shrugs, and stretches his legs. "Been thinking 'bout looking for somewhere else, though."
Thundersnow snorts and looks back out at the trees, his tail dusting the snow off his back as it whips side-to-side. Horse indeed. It is the Farm-of-the-Moondark. You cannot go there. It has walls of magic around it. There is no little smugness in his tone as he informs Tristan of this.
Tristan narrows his eyes, thinking. "Hunh. Well, whatever. I don't see no farm," he announces. "You weirdo living folks can go on thinking you see a farm all you want. Not like I need a farm, what, am I gonna eat hay?"
"Could come play cards with me in the barn," Ren points out, "...but hey, guess we'll just hafta find somewhere else to play." He eyes Thundersnow again, watching the movements of ears and all. "So, hey. Any of those homesteads and stuff you run into around here abandoned, by any chance?"
You could eat hay, Thundersnow suggests innocently. But it might not be very filling. He whickers and ducks his head, pawing at the ground.
"Oh sure," Tristan says to Ren, casually, balancing on the balls of his feet. "Lots of stuff around here's abandoned. Most of it's in real bad shape though. I didn't pay a lotta attention, I got no need for a roof, all these damn old crumbly houses would let too much sunlight in anyway."
Serendipity hehs. "Help me find a decent one and we c'n board up onea the rooms for ya, or something?" he suggests. "Not that I hate sharin' other people's rooms, but if I'm gonna hang out here a few more months I wouldn't mind havin' my own crash space for somea it."
Thundersnow whickers softly. The forest is plenty of space to sleep in. Plenty of food. He regards Tristan with a dark eye, and adds, But perhaps not for you.
Tristan enhs. "Well, I wouldn't mind droppin by n stuff, but it's safer for me to sleep in the ground than in a house, same place, every night." He shrugs, quick and nervous, and hops off the log to prowl randomly around, dropping abruptly to his haunches to pluck up a stone and rising and throwing it in the same motoin; off it goes, plinking across the frozen lake's surface.
Serendipity grins and shrugs. "Hey, I'm not big on sleepin' in the same place every night either," he replies, and gets to his feet smoothly, balancing atop the log, standing. "...but if you see anywhere, lemme know, yeah?"
Thundersnow gets a look in his eyes--the look all horses get when they are about to do something no one will really like--and trots towards the log. His movements are deliberately overstated, and once he's close enough he sniffs and noses at it.
Tristan swiftly removes himself from possible sneeze-blast range.
Serendipity eyes Thundersnow warily, shifting his stance to something slightly more defensible should anything untoward occur. He keeps the umbrella over him; it looks like a demented highwire act.
Thundersnow snorts at Tristan disdainfully and places one hoof on the downed tree. I am more creative than that, he informs the vampire. He returns his hoof to the snow and begins a leisurely circuit around the log, taking him further away from Tristan.
"Couldn't prove it by me," Tristan says sourly, watching the stallion sharply.
Serendipity continues watching the horse warily, though there's something in his expression that's been known to precede =him= doing something no one really likes in the past.
Why do I need to prove it? Thundersnow asks coyly. He flicks his tail and pauses, now placing the log between himself and Tristan.
Tristan doesn't reply, continuing to eye Thundersnow as if he expects the stallion to sprout tentacles and fangs.
Serendipity studies both of the pair appraisingly, eyeing them eyeing each other...
No tentacles or fangs emerge, and in fact for a few more seconds, Thundersnow looks as calm and placid as can be. Then, with only a flattening of his ears as warning, he charges forward and launches himself over the log in a smooth jump that shouldn't be possible at such close range, yet he has no trouble with it.
As soon as Thundersnow moves, Tristan's moving too, though in the opposite direction. He digs in his heels and bolts like the rabbit he flushed earlier. Pebbles and chunks of ice fly as he blurs away, plunging into the treeline with a swift crash, the sound of which continues to recede very quickly away.
Serendipity moves as well -- but =at= Thundersnow, umbrella falling aside as he tries to leap onto the horse's back and fling his arms about its neck. Which is, of course, insane. He yells something that sounds a lot like 'Banzai!' as he goes for it.
Thundersnow lands in the snow, sending a good deal of it flying about wildly, and as soon as he registers that something has landed on his back and has its arms around his neck, he whinnies in a tone fit to shatter a wineglass. The stallion spins about, bucking once in an attempt to dislodge his unwelcome rider.
Serendipity gets the wind half-knocked out of him by the impact, and just as he recovers some Thundersnow tries to buck him off, eliciting some strange combination of a yelp and a laugh. He tightens his hold, trying desperately to stay on -- but frankly, there's not THAT much to hold onto on a snow-covered bare-backed horse.
Off! Off! OFF! Thundersnow's whinneying has reached near-panicked levels, and surges forward, his leaping steps interspersed with bucking that borders on violent as he plunges about. LET GO!
Serendipity yelps again at an impact, but continues laughing. "Hey, whoa, stop, stop!" he exclaims between laughs, clinging for dear life, "...whoa, lemme off!"
Thundersnow's whinneying ceases, and his body ripples, the muscles and skin giving way to a far larger shape, the Stormrunner form. He's far taller now, and from the sound of it, a lot angrier too. As soon as his shifting is complete, he comes to a sudden halt, and all legs go rigid as he digs his hooves into the ground and lets the natural laws of motion take effect.
Sometimes, snow is a good thing. One of those times is when it's a big fresh snowbank and one's getting thrown off a huge beast. What little purchase Ren had's gone, and he yelps again as he flies briefly through the air, landing deep in the snowbank with a 'whump'. No sound or movement from the landing area.
Thundersnow's eyes roll white and he watches the hole in the snow that is Ren as he backs away, tossing his head and neighing angrily. Off, *off*. Never without *permission*, never *ever*. He strikes at the ground angrily, throwing up snow and even the part-sand, part clay dirt of the shoreline on occasion. Not ever. *Ever*.
Running footsteps crunch through the snow, light and fast, coming down from the mountain. Safi sprints into sight, breathless and wild-eyed. "Danny--" She skids to a stop, staring at the beast. "Danny?"
The silence from the hole continues for quite a number of seconds, until finally a sound wafts up from within it: a remarkably conversational "...ow."
Thundersnow has worked himself into a fine fit by now, sweat standing out along his back despite the snow and cold wint air. He shies away from Safi and stomps about more, kicking at the log when he gets close enough. Wood chips and splinters flake away, and his neighing is fierce and angry. Do not ride without permission *ever*. He kicks at the log again, and a larger piece flies free.
Safi makes slow placating gestures. "Okay, Danny... O. K. now. No one will hurt you..." Her voice is soft, a decided effort to ease him. "Shhhhh..."
There's a slight groan from the hole in the snowbank, and then another, slightly startled, "...ow," and the very top of Ren's head, down to about the eyes, becomes visible over the snow. "...heh..." He peers around, what he can see, and the amusement is briefly overshadowed by something else -- not quite annoyance, more disappointment. "Aw, man... you scared off Tristan." Another faint whump sound, as he disappears into the hole again. Voice carries up and out, "...hi, beautiful."
I am not hurt I am *angry*. Thundersnow makes a move towards Ren, or rather Ren's hole in the snow, but as Safi's voice sinks in he sidles and his breathing slows. He pins his ears and blows out a breath. Never again.
Safi swallows. "I think you should apologize," she calls out, looking toward the snow and the hidden Serendipity.
"Sure," Serendipity replies easily enough, "Sorry. Just horsin' around." After a moment, he mutters, "...shouldn't give it if y'can't take it, though. And now I hafta fuckin' track down Tristan again."
Apology is just words, Thundersnow informs Safi with a sharp neigh and a toss of his head. I was jumping I was not giving anything. Respect. Choice. Ask first. Ask.
Stepping closer, carefully, Safi studies Thundersnow with wary eyes. "Are you going to be O.K. now? Is better?"
Serendipity remains in his snowbank. What he's doing in there is anyone's guess, but it can't involve too much movement. And it's probably chilly.
The Stormrunner form shivers and contracts, and a messy but more reasonably-sized stallion stands in its place. Snow and sweat stick to his coat and plaster his mane in an odd configuration along his neck. He stays away, *away*, and keeps his hands to himself. Thundersnow sidles over and butts his head against Safi, then wheels away and launches himself across the shoreline at an unnatural speed. Despite the treacherous, icy ground, his feet are sure and unerring, and swiftly take him into the trees and out of sight.
Sighing, Safi paces through the snow toward Serendipity's hiding place, offering him a hand up. Her expression is taut with concern.
Serendipity accepts the hand, after a moment, and scrambles up out of the hole, wincing a little, and looking mildly annoyed. He slides down to where his large, open umbrella rests on the ground, clicks his tongue once at the damage to it before closing it and sliding it into his coat. He stands, then, favouring one foot a bit, and looks toward the treeline, sighing.
For a long moment, she watches him steadily, the concern sharpening. "You are hurt..." She drops to sit crosslegged in the snow. "Come."
Serendipity approaches obediently, with a bit of a limp -- not a lot of protest. "It's not that bad," he mutters, with a vaguely sheepish half-smile, and drops to the snow in front of her. "...had worse."
Safi reaches over to touch his ankle, his calf. "Here, I fix."
There's a warmth, as blood flows to the injury and Ren's metabolism moves faster. Safi presses both hands around the ankle first, setting it straight and speeding the healing of the tendons and ligaments; then she wraps her hands around his calf, her eyes distant as she reaches in with another vision. There are no pyrotechnics--only a slow washing-away of the pain.
Serendipity watches, quiet for once, eyebrows raising slightly. "...damn," he remarks, as she finishes up, "wish I could do that. Thanks, lovely." He wriggles his toes within his boot.
Safi blinks back into awareness a moment later, her eyes settling on his. She slowly takes her hands away.
Serendipity smiles a little, crookedly. "...thanks," he repeats, in case she was too deep in trance to hear the first time.
She answers him with a little nod, and rolls smoothly to her feet, dusting snow from her clothing and skin.
Serendipity follows suit, testing the leg a little, then stretching, and brushing the snow from his hair. "...so. What're =you= up to t'night?"
Safi bites her lower lip, and hitches a shoulder. "Up to?"
Serendipity tilts his head, arching an eyebrow slightly, and studying the girl. "Yeah, up to. Doing. Y'know?"
Chewing on her lip again, she murmurs, "I do not know."
"...you okay?" Ren inquires, a little concerned. "Y'seem a little... I dunno, disoriented."
"I was running," she says quietly. The green eyes never leave his. "On ze mountain... I was running, and I hear Danny, upset."
Serendipity looks up at the falling snow, then back to the girl's eyes. "You were running in this? You're weirder'n I am," he teases, with a little grin. "...so that =was= Danny, huh? Wasn't sure."
Safi nods, wide green eyes locked with his.
Serendipity takes a step closer, well inside what most people would probably consider personal space, and rests one hand lightly on Safi's shoulder, the other stroking a strand of her hair back behind her ear. He maintains the eye contact, expression a touch puzzled. "Hey. 'swrong, cutie? Whatcha thinkin'?"
"What is weeerd?" she asks softly. "Why do you say I am weeerder zen you?" She wets her lips uncertainly. "I like to run on ze mountain."
Serendipity hesitates, with a little laugh. "...heh. Weird's like... unusual. Strange. Not like other people, y'know? Because most people think weather like this, snowin' and all, that's not when they're gonna go out running. They're prolly gonna stay inside where it's warm. An' weirder than me -- well, you're not, really, it's just teasing, like, even I wouldn't be out running in this, and everyone knows I'm a freak." He gives her a little wink. "On the other hand, you prolly wouldn't do half the shit I've done."
Safi tips her head, into his hand. "You are not freak," she says, lowering her eyes. "I am more a freak zen everyone." A swallow tightens her throat.
Serendipity fffts dismissively, a quiet sound just now, and cradles Safi's cheek gently. "Am too a freak," he insists, mock insulted, and gives her another little grin. "...and why shouldn't I be? Tell you a secret: normal people, they're boring. And I got relatives could outfreak you on their best behaviour." The hand on her shoulder pulls her in a touch closer, to cuddling range.
Her eyes drift closed, and she leans into his touch like a cat--closer and closer, until her cheek brushes his. She doesn't speak, but he can hear her breathing, feel it warming against his skin.
Serendipity wraps both arms about her, gently, and holds her close, staying very still. He closes his eyes as well; it's a pleasant little oasis of warmth in the cold.
She is warm, very warm--almost radiating heat. Bending her head, she nuzzles the side of his neck. Her hands move, sliding slowly around his waist.
Serendipity tilts his head a little, nuzzling in against Safi's hair, and his breath washes warm across her ear in a little exhalation of a sigh. "...mm," he murmurs almost silently, letting one of his hands find its way to the small of her back.
"You are not talking, no more," she whispers. "I like how you talk..." She nuzzles at the curve of his neck again, gently.
Serendipity laughs, quiet in his throat. "Yeah? Most people seem t'be =thankful= when I shut up," he murmurs, grinning against her hair.
"Mmmm," she murmurs, nuzzling again. "It is good, how you talk... makes me feel better, always." A moment of shivery wetness follows, as she tastes his skin.
Serendipity does, in fact, shiver a little at the taste, and moves his head slightly, letting his lips brush softly against the shell of her ear as he murmurs to her softly. "Yeah? Good. You should feel better. ...not that you don't feel pretty good already." He grins, giving her a little nuzzle. "You're a good person, beautiful. 's good, knowin' you."
Safi draws away, blinking and looking into his face with wide eyes. "You sink zis? Is true? I am... I am good to know?"
Serendipity's eyes open with a bit of surprise as she pulls away, and he grins crookedly, nodding a little. "Yeah, I think that. I'm glad I know you."
The smile that comes to her lips is quiet, beatific. "I am glad I know /you/ too. I look zis word, in ze dictionary... it is a dis-covery. I sink you tell people discovery, you say things, make zem think different."
Serendipity smiles back, a slow and for a split second almost shy smile in response. "See," he replies, just as quiet as when they were closer, "you're a lot more..." He hesitates, looking for the word he wants, "...observant, than most people. 's nice."
Safi glances down, her own grin child-shy. "I should to go, now," she whispers.
Serendipity reluctantly loosens his arms, making it easy for Safi to pull away and leave if she wishes, and nods a little. "...a'ight," he agrees, softly. "If you gotta." He leans forward to give her a very soft kiss on the forehead, and then pulls back slightly. "...guess I'll go see 'f I c'n track that vampire down again."
"Tristan?" She blinks, and then looks around for a time, her eyes unfocused. Then she shakes her head. "He is not near, here... I do not see." Then she looks back to him, offering a quick, small smile. "Do not make ze horses angry," she cautions him, and turns to pace off into the snowy woods.
"Yeah..." Ren trails off, and nods when she refocuses, with a slightly disappointed half-smile. "...yeah. I'll try not to." He watches her go, again, and shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat, padding off to disappear into the treeline himself.
Safi's feet crunch on pine needles as she disappears down Katahdin Road.